


Humming Swordsman

by marimoes



Series: Promptober 2019 [21]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 04:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21238490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marimoes/pseuds/marimoes
Summary: Brook has first watch in the crow’s nest in the morning, and when the wind moves through him, he hums.





	Humming Swordsman

**Author's Note:**

> Day 21: Wind

Brook doesn’t mind being up in the crow’s nest for watch. In fact, in his old crew, it’s where you would have likely found him if he wasn’t on the deck. Sitting in the small space with his violin, playing music so that it would float down over the rest of them, and he would smile. 

The wind would catch his hair and coat, and in those moments he almost felt like he was flying. But now, aboard the Sunny, he’s not playing. Well, not yet, seeing as everyone is still asleep and he rather likes all of his bones where they’re supposed to be. 

So, he sits. 

Alone. 

_ Alone. _ The word holds a different meaning now than it did a few years ago. Now, it simply means that everyone is asleep beneath the deck, and he’s the only one awake. He’s not truly alone, and he knows this, because he experienced it far longer than anyone should. 

Fifty years of waiting alone does something to a person, skeleton or not, and Brook tries not to pay it any mind. The humming of dread in his chest as the winds blew through him on his old ship, leaving him to nearly go insane. 

How in those moments he wished Yorki could hear it; that bizarre noise his new body makes. If they were still alive, his crew would tease him about learning yet  _ another _ instrument, and Yorki would owe him a drink. 

That was always their deal each time Brook somehow figured out how to play something else. Serving as a goal for Brook each time they landed on a new island and the locals had an instrument he hadn’t seen. But they aren’t alive, and he can’t control it. 

The wind pushes through Brook’s chest again now, but the hum is brighter, a little warmer, as it vibrates his ribcage. Maybe it’s always been that way, but he just didn’t want to hear it. Maybe, Yorki still can. 

Looking up to the sun, Brook shrugs his jacket off a little more, and lets the wind pass through him. It feels bitter in the early hours, and if he were alive he’s sure he would be cold. The pitch bends and stretches passing through him and a soft  _ yohohoho _ passes from his mouth. 

“Yorki, I’ve learned another instrument,” Brook says, and if he had one, his heart would be warm, “You owe me a beer.” 

**Author's Note:**

> God, I really love Brook.
> 
> Tumblr: @noswordstyle  
Twitter: @__moes__


End file.
